Better than a poke in the eye Well, maybe
by Eledhwen1
Summary: Harry doesn't want to die a virgin. Again. For an 'imperfect sex' challenge, although they never quite get to it.


Title: Better than a poke in the eye... well, maybe  
Rating: Soft R  
Pairing: Harry/Draco. Shoot me now. Also, mention of Harry/Neville  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. All hail JKR.  
Summary: Harry doesn't want to die a virgin. Again.  
Notes: For contrelamontre's () 'imperfect sex' challenge. It's funny. Well, I tried, at any rate.

* * *

"Malfoy?" Harry called into the darkness.  
  
"What do you want, Potter? No, don't answer that, actually. I mean, it's not enough that I have to spend my last hours in a dank, slimy dungeon – which, by the way, is going to play havoc on my complexion, but I don't suppose I shall care about that very soon – but was it necessary that I have to spend them with you? Torture, that's what it is."  
  
Harry was a tad taken aback by the torrent of words from Malfoy, but he had a point to make. Or something. "Malfoy… Draco…"  
  
"On a first name basis are we now, _Potter_?"  
  
Harry repressed a sigh. Sometimes you just had to swallow your pride and get on with it to get what you wanted, he reminded himself. "Draco, I don't want to die a virgin."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Draco?" he said, wondering if he'd managed to kill the other boy in shock. He wasn't very experienced, but he already knew that necrophilia wasn't exactly his thing.  
  
"Give me a second to digest that unnecessary information," said a slightly strangled-sounding voice.  
  
Harry nodded before he realised that Draco wouldn't be able to see it. "Sure," he said, settling back against the wall, before he remembered that it was damp. He shuffled away slightly, and mumbled to himself about uncivilised captors.  
  
After a few minutes, the silence broken only by Harry's disgruntled mutters and the occasional sound of drips, Draco spoke again. "So the almighty Boy Who Lived hasn't managed to get laid yet."  
  
"Shut it, Malfoy."  
  
"Ah, Malfoy again, is it?"  
  
"Damn." Harry could feel Draco's grin right across the room. Admittedly, the room wasn't all that big - they _were_ in a dungeon, after all - but still…  
  
"Just let me get this out of my system and then we'll see about giving you what you want, hmm?" Harry's heart leaped traitorously at the implication of Draco's words, and then sunk right into his non-existent shoes at the realisation of what the first bit meant. Well, he had expected it, right?  
  
"So are you going to answer my question?" Draco asked.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously I haven't. That's why I said I didn't want to… you know."  
  
"And here everyone thought you've been picking and choosing among the… well, I hesitate to use the term 'best and brightest' of the kind of people that were hanging around you."  
  
"So did I. I mean, _Neville_? Or _Colin_? And Ginny's pretty and all, but I don't really go for breasts anymore, y'know?"  
  
"A little too much information there, Potter," interrupted Draco hastily. "I think you've made your point. I take it you think I'm a better choice."  
  
"Well, more like the _only_ choice, actually."  
  
There was a dangerous silence. Harry hastened to correct himself once more. "I mean… you're the best choice."  
  
"Better. Marginally."  
  
Harry smiled slightly, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't be seen. Draco at least kind of wanted this too, or he wouldn't have given in nearly so easily. They might not like each other, but they'd spent seven years in quite close proximity, and he thought he knew the other boy quite well. Well enough to realise that, anyway.  
  
"Stop that."  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"I know you're smiling."  
  
Harry was too taken aback to refute it. "Oh," he said intelligently, instead.  
  
"Well, anyway. I suppose I can do a kind deed before I die."  
  
"You mean…"  
  
"I'll do it, Potter, but you'll have to be a bit closer first," Draco said, with rather the air of a guru instructing his disciple.  
  
"I _had_ got that far before," Harry retorted crossly.  
  
"With who? Longbottom?"  
  
Harry spluttered, but couldn't in all honesty deny it. Then he crawled cautiously over to where he thought Draco was.  
  
When he put his knee down on something that felt like a foot, he assumed he'd found the right place. The yelp seemed to indicate he was right.  
  
He manoeuvred himself to sit next to Draco, and they said nothing for a bit longer. Harry had time to notice all over again that the floor was extremely uncomfortable, and that the air was very cold. Well, at least their lack of clothing might be helpful…  
  
"So are you planning to do anything?" Harry asked finally, sick of waiting for Draco to make the first move.  
  
Draco kissed him. Or rather, Draco tried to kiss him. Instead, he ended up half-draped over Harry's shoulder, kissing the empty air next to Harry's ear.  
  
Harry sighed, and redirected him, now that he had a better idea of exactly where Draco's face was.  
  
Frankly, thought Harry after a bit, Draco wasn't a very good kisser at all. Even Neville had been better, actually. He spared a moment of regret for Neville, so cruelly dumped. Although, Neville had been spending a lot of time with Colin recently… Harry pulled his attention back to the present just as Draco pulled away.  
  
"Mmm," said Draco. "Good, eh?"  
  
Harry made a noncommittal noise, and regretted Neville a bit more. "Shall we get on with it then?"  
  
"Let's."  
  
Harry got to work on what remained of his clothes, rustles from not far away indicating that Draco was doing the same.  
  
"Now what?" he said, when he was naked.  
  
"Now you lie down, and I get you ready."  
  
"Like hell."  
  
"Who's the one who knows what they're doing?"  
  
"Point." Harry sighed, laid back (wincing at the cold, and was that moss? Ick) and resolved to think of his reputation. He really hoped 'not dying a virgin' was worth this, or he'd be having words with 'everyone'. Yes, indeed.  
  
Hands fumbled over his body, shoving at him. "Turn over!" commanded Draco irritably.  
  
"You could _ask_," Harry grumbled.  
  
"Malfoys don't ask."  
  
"Oh. How stupid of me." Harry hoped 'Malfoy' wasn't rubbing off on him, and winced again at the (really bad) double entendre as Draco's hands began arranging him into a satisfactory position.  
  
Fingers prodded at his bottom, and Harry tried not to jerk away. He hadn't got quite this far with Neville, but he'd really thought you were supposed to be, y'know, _aroused_ before you started that…  
  
Well, Draco knew what he was doing. He hoped.  
  
A slim finger poked at his hole. Harry yelped, and tried to scramble away. "That hurts! What're you _doing_?!"  
  
"Um. Would this be a bad time to say that when I did this, I was on the bottom? And, um, not entirely sober?"  
  
"_Yes_!"  
  
Harry turned around hastily, hopefully reducing the likelihood of being attacked in sensitive places by that deadly finger. He glared at Draco, not caring that the effect was entirely lost in the dark.  
  
He was still glaring, in silence, when the door opened a few minutes later. A figure was silhouetted ominously against the flood of light, and Harry scrambled for his clothes with little luck as his eyes tried to adjust.  
  
"Harry?" said Sirius' voice, and then, "_Malfoy_?" as he took in their states.  
  
Harry just managed to make out Draco sauntering towards the door as if he hadn't just almost killed Harry with his inexperience. "It's been great, Potter. We must do this again sometime." He blew Harry a kiss as he ducked past Sirius.  
  
Harry buried his head in his hands under his godfather's bewildered gaze, shaking as he realised just how close he'd come to doing it with Malfoy. Colin be damned, he resolved to find Neville just as soon as they got back to school, and beg him for forgiveness. Among other things.  
  
Well, Harry reminded himself, attempting to find something good about the situation. At least this meant he wouldn't be dying a virgin. For today, at any rate.


End file.
